Transparent man No18
by launcherofzeroship
Summary: For the first time in his life, he wanted to become colors, rather than a transparent existence. The phantom, and the future that could be.


I wanted to make a romantic Simon/Bobby fluff…but it turned into a full on phantom ramble. I didn't know where I went wrong -_-

* * *

_Beep bop_

_Once a long long time ago_

_A monster came to him_

_Gulped down his heart and said, "Keep on lying!"_

_Since then, he had been a true liar_

_Nothing and no one he couldn't fool_

It was an uncanny song, one that described his situation quite perfectly. The phantom's identity was a secret. His name, nationality, past, and even his true appearance were all unknown. There were only two things regarding the phantom that the law enforcement agency was privy to. Namely, that the phantom was a male. And secondly, that the phantom's psychological profile analysis had shown a disturbing lack of emotion. It wasn't like he didn't have any. No matter what the rumors might say, the phantom was still a run of the mill flesh-and-blood human just like any others.

What separated him from the rest was that the phantom possessed a cool analytical mind at all times. No matter how desperate, he was always able to calculate the most rational course of actions. Like jumping to an unstable stepping ladder from a rotating building with distance 20 feet wide and 50 feet above the ground. The concept of "fear" had not even registered to his brain. The only important thing for the phantom, was to secure an immediate escape route and avoid detection. Nothing else mattered, such was his mission.

He had no limits and cared to little. After all, all lives end and hearts broken, caring was not an advantage. Emotions didn't come naturally to him. Instead, it was all a mere dull throb. Numbness. He felt emotions, he really did. But it was seldom and had been so thoroughly diluted that it might as well pass for nothing.

* * *

When he was little, in the past that he dimly remembered, the phantom hated himself. So, he tried desperately to become someone else. Becoming hundreds of different people from all walks of life, he became transparent.

A business man, an artist, a beggar, a pimp – no matter the role, he would always play them perfectly. He liked Boston Celtics and Los Angeles Lakers, the Southerners and the Northerners, jazz and rock – if his role called for it. He liked his food sweet, sour, salty, bitter, and hot; he had trained himself to eat all kinds of food. Music, sports, language, cooking, and gardening, he liked them all equally. Liking everything, hating nothing, having no preferences…._isn't that kind of person boring?_

* * *

He had so many masks, he wondered which one of them was real. _What does his real face look like? Is he a cheerful person? What is his real birth name?_

Lying was his forte, and he wasn't good at being honest. The lies that he had told up until now had greatly outweighed the truths. He had told so many lies, he didn't know what was real anymore. One lie after another, burying him alive. He was starting to lose himself amid all the roles he took. _Was there even existed "him" as a person in the first place? Before he became a phantom?_

Somewhere along the line, the fake life that he had created had taken over and became "real." His assumed role became a reality, it was not a fake anymore. "Bobby Fulbright" had become his version of reality. The detective whom he had killed and role taken over must be laughing his ass off in his grave. The phantom didn't attach himself to a particular religion. But if God – or other higher entities – existed, they must have a really sick sense of humor.

* * *

"Let everything continue to spin on circle."

The world was so beautifully made, it was loathsome. He felt that he had gotten the hang of this world already, it would be good to be soon taken away into the tumbling Ark. Not that he desired redemption. Maybe it would be better to just drown. _Stuff like being reborn and chance meetings will be really bothersome._

If 'emotion' really did exist in the genes of all human beings, murderers and prime ministers alike, surely the same could also be said for a "phantom." He wanted to believe in the spark of emotion that he felt, and the people that had caused it. The feeling that was alien and yet familiar at the same time – fear. The phantom felt fear, and thus, he was without any doubt, a human. He existed as a "human" in his own right. Not because of the roles that he had played.

_Emotions are such a bother, but if that is what it takes to be a human, then…_

A phantom that wanted to become human, he had a funny feeling that a wooden marionette would have better chances at achieving it. All thanks to the Fairy God Mother, the unfair lot.

* * *

For the first time in his life, he wanted to become colors, rather than a transparent existence. Having someone calling his name, and dying his transparent self in colors. _Red, green, blue, yellow – even black is fine._

_What color is Bobby Fulbright? Red? White? Yellow?_ In the other version of reality, the phantom would truly exist as him. The bright, cheerful, and stupidly honest Bobby Fulbright that was full of justice and hope. He would make friends, solve cases, mess up, get intimidated by the Doctor Black Jack-esque prosecutor, and suffer a salary cut….but it didn't matter.

"In justice we trust!" no matter how much he said it, the phrase still felt weird in his mouth.

_But one day_

_One day for sure_

_He will find all the right words _

_And everything will be simple_


End file.
